Roadside Service
by Cairis Rin
Summary: Stand alone shorts about various mundane, hopefully humourous, things that could happen to the boys while on the road.
1. Out of Salt

_Summary_: Each chapter is its own stand alone short about various mundane, but hopefully humourous, things the boys might encounter while on the road.

_Disclaimer_: I don't own them, the show, the Impala, or anything else related to Supernatural. I'm just a fanfic writing doing what fanfic writers do best, write fanfic.

_Author's Note_: At the time of me posting this, there are 17, 565 stories up. Woot! I have read, oh, um…maybe 1 percent of that. I don't get much time for reading, and I'm only writing these because I love the show and while I should be working on other things these thoughts and ideas kept popping up. Much to the efforts of my friend AuroraDannon. I'm only updating this whenever the inspiration hits. To be honest, I'll be surprised if someone else _hasn't_ already had an idea like this one. No infringement is intended, I have not read any story like this, and this is just my own personal take on things. It's all just fanfic people. We write for the fun of it. That's it, that all.

Hope you enjoy. :) Chapters will be updated as inspiration strikes. But I do have five ready to go, so I'll put one up each week till I run out.

x.x.x.x.x

**Out of Salt**

Dean wiped the dirt from his face but he was so covered in sweat he only ended up smearing the dirt around. Considering his clothes were soiled and dark with more than just dirt, he really didn't care.

They were running out of time. He and Sam had already gone one on one with the vengeful spirit and nearly lost. They'd used the last of their salt just repelling the entity in an attempt to protect a family who had the unfortunate luck of moving into the house of a long deceased murderer. A murderer who'd died only to become a spirit intent on killing anyone who dared to lived there.

Several shots of rock salt had scared the evil ghost off, but it wouldn't stay gone long, which was why Dean was up to his neck in dirt. His shovel finally hit the bottom of the grave, a wooden clang echoing up through the six foot deep hole. The hunter quickly worked to uncover more of the rotted coffin, clearing enough away to ram the shovel down through the old wood.

Thankfully the man had been buried in the simplest of wooden boxes. Newer coffins were a much tougher nut to crack, but soon enough Dean had a sizable hole and he look down at the ugly skeleton in disgust. The ghost hadn't really been much of an improvement.

Finished as far as he could go, Dean climbed out of the hole and checked his watch. Almost two in the morning. He was sure the ghost would try again that night. They needed to do this soon before there was another fatal attack. The only sure way to kill a vengeful spirit was to salt and burn the bones.

Dean had the kerosene. He was just waiting on the salt. It was at least another twenty minutes of tense anticipation before his tall beanpole of a brother finally showed up.

"What took you so long?" Dean demanded in a hoarse whisper. The graveyard was empty except for them, but that could easily change in a heartbeat.

"Do you know how hard it was to find an open store?" Sam returned.

"This is an emergency! You should have just broken in the first place you came across!" But his brother just gave him a look. _Pansy_, Dean thought. He grabbed the bag from Sam's hands and pulled out… "What the hell is this?"

Sam squirmed. "They were out of regular rock salt. It was the best I could find on short notice."

Dean held up the box of lavender and mint herbal bath salt. "Are you trying to kill it or cleanse its spirit?!" he asked sarcastically.

"Look, it should still work. They only use pure sea salt in this stuff," Sam argued.

"Ya? How do _you_ know?" Dean questioned, raising an eyebrow at Sam in question.

Giving him a look only a brother can, Sam grabbed the box from Dean's hands. With deft fingers he had it open and was pouring the purple crystals down into the opened grave. To finish the job, Dean doused the corpse in kerosene, lit a match, and flicked it in.

The corpse, the rotted box, and any dirt wet enough from the gas, burst into flame. Usually burning a body, no matter how far it was along the decaying process, was messy business. And while the bath salts had a relatively nice fragrance, them, combined with the burning bones was like adding air freshener to one really _really_ bad odor.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Next time I'll get vanilla jasmine."

"What do you mean _next time_?"


	2. Road Signs

**Road Signs**

They had a long way to go. Dean usually didn't mind, but it was late. They'd been up most of the previous night and back on the road by sunrise. He was dead tired. They should have stopped for the night, but Sam had found a report on some potential werewolf activity and tomorrow night was the full moon. They had to get there before then if they were going to have any chance at all of stopping the creature.

Dean glanced over at his brother, Sam. He had one of those huge roadmaps open and folded and folded again until it was hard to tell what part of the states you were looking at without opening it all the way out. "So? Found a short cut yet?"

"Ah…yeah, here we go. Take the next exit. It's a mountain road but it should shave a couple hours off our time."

"Good," Dean stated, trying not to sound cranky. He was just eager to get there so they could crash for a few hours before starting the hunt. Taking the exit and following Sam's directions they headed up into the mountains. Like most major mountain passes, the road wound its way up and down through the small valleys of the mountain chain. The street lights disappeared leaving only the Impala's headlights to clear a path through the black of night. Trees grew on either side of the road, threatening to overthrow it, and most of the time they drove with a hill on one side and a deep ravine on the other.

They had only just left the safety of the interstate for their scenic shortcut when they passed their first yellow diamond-shaped road sign.

WATCH FOR CONGESTION AHEAD

"Congestion?" Dean said with a snort. "Out here on this two-bit road?"

"Maybe a lot of the locals use it during the day?" Sam suggested.

Certainly not now. They were the only ones on the road and Dean highly doubted they'd see anyone else this time of night. There wasn't even the faint glow of lights in the distance from other cars, or houses, streetlamps, or anything else for that matter. It was just them and the road, and if Dean wasn't so exhausted he'd probably be enjoying himself. There was nothing like a good hard drive on a mountain road. Mastering the turns, the constant change of direction and elevation…the yellow signs.

MOOSE XING

Again Dean frowned. "Where do they think we are, _Canada_?" But a moment later four white tailed deer jumped across the road in front of the Impala and Dean had to make some real fancy moves to avoid hitting them. Swearing, the young hunter narrowly avoided the fleeing beasts and somehow managed to keep the car from going into the ravine.

Map crumpled in his haste to grab onto something, Sam turned in his seat to stare open eyed at the white tufts now disappearing into the black of the trees. "Where did they come from?"

"Who knows," Dean grumbled glad to put the not so adorable Bambis in his rearview mirror. "But they weren't _moose_," he stated in defiance of the sign. No, that came next.

Driving a little slower than he normally would have, Dean spotted the gigantic mass -namely its big furry horns that seemed to hover right at eyelevel, a good four seconds before he'd have hit the beast. Unlike the deer, hitting a moose would guarantee serious damage to the car and possibly themselves, but not necessarily to the moose. While this was the first moose Dean had ever seen, he'd heard tales of cars completely wrapping around the beasts, and the moose being the only survivor.

His baby was a lot tougher than the cheep aluminum cans they called cars these days, but Dean wasn't so willing to take the risk. Part of him wondered if plunging into the ravine might be a safer bet, but instead he swerved the other way, siding with the mountain in the opposite lane and hoping the moose didn't move.

And in fact, it didn't. Turning its large head with its menacing furry antlers, the tall creature just watched as the car skid and slid and went on past. Glancing back, Dean would never forget the look of those black eyes calmly watching him go by, or the fact that the moose was standing right next to a yellow sign with two bears on it.

"What the Hell is wrong with this place?" Dean exclaimed.

Working at getting his breath back, Sam shook his head, slowly replying, "I don't know, but that was close."

"We aren't actually _in_ Canada, are we?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yes, Dean, I'm sure," Sam replied with exasperation.

Dean inched the impala along, just in case they found something else. He didn't believe in coincidence, and two close calls were two too many. Trusting his instincts, Dean kept his pace stubbornly slow, which meant when he saw the large mound of dirt blocking the road he had plenty of time to come to a complete and utter stop.

DUCK XING

The yellow sign taunted Dean as it sat right next to the ominous heap at the edge of the road. Only, it wasn't a pile of dirt like he'd first assumed. The headlights reflected off the large beast that for a moment seemed to be nothing more than fur. A _lot_ of fur. And then it stood up, apparently woken by their arrival.

"Dean," Sam whispered, "Why is there a bear in the middle of the road?"

They stared at the bear and the bear stared at them. And when it didn't seem to be moving Dean slammed on the horn.

Alarmed, Sam jumped in his seat, just as startled at the bear by the sudden noise. "Dean, what are you doing?"

"I'm getting us the Hell out of here! This is a cursed road, Sammy." He laid on the horn again and then yelled, "Move you stupid bear, move!"

The bear just yelled back, rising up to its full height. And Dean thought the moose was tall. Frustrated, he pulled out his gun and aimed it at the towering bear through the windshield. "If you don't move I _am_ going to shoot you!"

"Dean, you can't shoot the bear," Sam immediately rebuked.

"Why not?" Dean protested, and then hit the horn again as hard as he could. At last, the bear sank back down and slowly ambled out of their way. "Thank you!" Dean exclaimed. Wondering what could possibly happen next. If a duck so much as _attempted_ to cross the road, he wasn't showing it any mercy.

"Sammy, check the map, we need to get off this road!"

He got the impala on its way as Sam unfolded the map, but his brother shook his head. "There's no other roads. But there's only another ten miles to go."

Frustrated, Dean passionately stated, "We are _never_ taking this route _ever_ again!" He desperately wanted to speed ahead if just to be done with this nightmare, but he was too afraid they'd hit something along the way. "Just keep your eyes open for any more surprises."

"What do you think is next, watch for rocks?" Sam remarked.

"With the way this road's cursed, the sign will say something completely different."

"You mean, like that one?" Sam asked, pointing ahead to the reflected yellow diamond.

WATCH FOR BISON

It took them the better part of an hour to clear enough of the rubble for them to safely cross over the landslide. By the time they were done the two brothers were sweaty and exhausted and half tempted to just camp there for the night except Dean didn't even _want_ to contemplate what would happen if they tried to stay on the road with it's crazy mixed up road signs.

As they finally reached the end of the road, two hours later than planned, Dean couldn't help but think back to that first road sign that seemed to have started it all. It was the only one that had told the truth. But instead of 'watch for congestion,' Dean thought the sign should have read 'warning, cursed road ahead.' And then, as if the road were getting in one last taunt, they passed by one final yellow sign on their way out.

SEE WE TOLD YOU SO

_Author's note_: All signs mentioned in this story are actual real road signs in America…yep, even that last one.


	3. Special Delivery

_Author's Note_: This one is my least favorite of the one's I've written thus far, but it set things up for another one. Eh, whatever.

**Special Delivery**

"Dean, why am I getting email from some place called 'Hardrockforever?'" Sam asked his brother. As was often the case Sam was utilizing the local WiFi connection of the motel to check his email. But what usually _wasn't_ the case were pieces of spam from some mom and pop shop attempting to go online. "Were you using my computer?" Sam practically demanded.

"It was an emergency," Dean instantly defended, or in other words…yes. But then to Sam's surprise his brother practically pushed him out of the way to look at the email, frowning slightly as he tried unsuccessfully to open it, managing only to start a reply letter instead.

"What are you doing?" Sam shoved his brother back before he could really mess things up. With Sam's luck he'd end up on every spam list available. But as Sam was about to close the email down he realized it wasn't spam at all. Quirking an eyebrow at his brother he questioned, "You ordered something online?"

"I told you, it was an emergency."

Sam just stared at his brother waiting for more. Dean squirmed slightly, and then motioning to the laptop, demanded, "So what does it say? Is it coming or what?"

Sighing, Sam scanned through the email. Apparently item 'MET MoP' had shipped yesterday with 2 Day Shipping. "Ah, yeah, tomorrow."

Dean's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Cool! That means it should get here just in time."

"In time for what?" Sam asked, confused. If it was an 'emergency' than he expected it had something to do with a hunt, but they'd just solved the local haunting that night. There wasn't anything else to do here in this little town. "We were planning on leaving tomorrow."

"Exactly!" Dean's grin only made Sam frown even more.

Finally he just asked the obvious question. "Dean, what did you get?"

"You'll see." Dean told him, the grin now reaching his eyes.

Usually after a successful hunt, and if they weren't too badly injured, Dean would wander off to the local bar for a congratulatory drink, but tonight Sam watched his brother change, pack, and flop onto his bed without even turning on the TV. The whole time the grin hadn't left Dean's face and with hands clasped behind his head he very much looked like he was lost in some sort of daydream.

Shaking his head, mystified, Sam finally pushed it out of his mind and went back to his laptop. He had four emails to respond to, and he wanted to check the web for any leads to another hunt. They never liked to hang out in town after a hunt for long, but far too often they'd hit the road only to discover they had to go back the other way.

Sam didn't know when Dean actually fell asleep. He wasn't used to the complete silence in the room and had himself worked till he fell asleep at the table. For that matter, Sam wasn't sure when Dean had woken up, either, but when he finally realized it was morning the clock said it was closing in on their checkout time.

Dean was nowhere in sight.

With a sigh and a good long stretch, Sam wondered if Dean was off getting his parcel. He only hoped it came in time. He didn't want to pay for another night at the motel if they weren't going to stay. Then Sam frowned, murmuring out loud, "Where did Dean have it shipped?"

But the questioned was answered a moment later by a knock at the door.

Sam cautiously peered through the eyehole and then finally opened the door to see a rather confused UPS employee on the other side. "Ah…I'm looking for a Cliff Burton?"

Sam almost chuckled at Dean's chosen alias, but clearing his throat, he schooled his features back to normal and replied, "Yep. That's me."

Looking somewhat relieved, the delivery man handed him an electronic clipboard and stylus pen. Sam scribbled a vague semblance of the name and with a forced smile took the offered package. The man turned to leave, but at the last minute turned back and with a hesitant expression, questioned Sam, "If I can ask, do you actually live here?"

"Yep." Sam immediately lied. It was becoming habit.

Blinking, startled, the delivery man finally just shrugged and left. Closing the door, Sam walked back into the room, turning the small package over and over in his hands. It wasn't very big. It barely had any substance to it at all. And shaking it only proved it was well cushioned. But it was all Sam could do not to give in to his curiosity.

Finally, just setting the small box down on the table, Sam grabbed some clothes and headed for the shower. Dean was back by the time he was done, and the little box sat empty, the small bit of bubble wrap lying next to it, completely popped.

"Hey sleepy head!" Dean cheerfully greeted, handing him a hot cup of coffee. The good kind, with cream, and a shot of chocolate. The kind Dean usually refused to get on account it was too girly. "I thought you'd sleep forever. Ready to go? I heard about a gig up in North Dakota. Some sort of string of murders where the victim's eyes are gorged out. Sounds promising."

Sam frowned, sipping carefully at his sugar coated caffeine to see if it had been dosed with anything. Other than tasting abnormally good, it seemed fine. "Dean, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm great. Let's go. I want to get on the road as soon as possible."

"Okay." But even the five minutes it took Sam to finish packing seemed to be too long for his brother. Dean all but dragged him out of the room, practically bouncing on his toes the entire time. It wasn't until they'd settled into the car that Dean finally started to act normal.

"We've got a nice long ride ahead of us, but don't worry baby, I got you something special," Dean told his car, patting the Impala on the dash with a deep fondness. And then he pulled a cassette tape out of his pocket and pushed it into the player. The rhythmic sounds of Metallica immediately began to reverberate through the car.

Sam blinked, realizing something he should have guessed the night before. "Wait. This was your emergency? Buying a cassette tape?"

"The old one was all stretched out. It was making James Hetfield sound like Fat Albert!" Dean complained. "Do you know how frickin' long it took me to even find someone who still had a copy?"

"Yeah, that's because they stopped making cassette tapes years ago!" Sam argued, but trying to get Dean up to date on modern technology was a slow and futile process. "Look, just…" Sam sighed with frustration. "Next time you want to buy something online use your own email."

But Dean just returned, "Why would I have an email? I've got yours."

Sam let his head hit the back of the seat with a sigh. Like he said, it was futile. "Never mind."

And yet, as the Impala pulled out into traffic to the beat of the music, Sam had to admit the new tape did sound better than the old one. They were halfway to North Dakota before they discovered the missing eyes murderer was your typical serial killer and already caught by the police. Their long ride became even longer as they found another hunt and once again had to backtrack to get there, Metallica playing the entire way.


	4. Detour

**Detour**

On a dark and stormy night two brothers were driving along one of the nation's greatest roadways known as Interstates because of how they connected one state to another in the most convenient of ways. Unfortunately, most of the time, the brothers discovered these big long stretches of road were often, and almost continuously…under construction.

"Another detour ahead," Dean announced with a sigh. This was the third one that night on the same road. The previous two had merely moved traffic over to share the lanes moving in the opposite direction. This one looked like the entire road ahead might actually be closed for the night.

Passing by the flashing neon lights and looking ahead for the orange detour signs, Dean grumbled, "Why do they always close the freeways down at night?"

Sam looked at him in momentary silence before sarcastically replying, "As opposed to the day when they're the busiest?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Forced off the Interstate, Dean followed the row of detour signs, surprised when they took him for a turn rather than onto one of the frontage roads that often paralleled freeways. That meant more than just a small section of the Interstate was closed. That or they were in the middle of nowhere. "Hey, see where they might be taking us."

Sam dug around for a map and after much deliberation and a few more turns encouraged by the orange signs, he decided the detour was directing them towards another freeway that would later merge with the Interstate.

Sam's guess was dead on and Dean breathed a sigh of relief as they left the uneven back roads for the smooth pavement of the freeway. But it wasn't long before they were met with yet another series of flashing neon lights. "You have got to be kidding me!"

"Just follow that guy," Sam suggested, pointing to the taillights of a little jetta. "I think they were on the Interstate with us."

"I'm telling you, if they ever ran out of road repairs a lot of construction workers would be out of business. Seriously, did this road even _need_ to be repaired or do you think they just do it for job security?"

Chuckling, Sam shook his head as if to say he didn't know. Then, nodding towards the orange sign up ahead, Dean's brother remarked, "There's the detour sign. Looks like they're shutting the whole road down here, too."

Unable to do much else, Dean followed the jetta as they took the next exit and obediently turned wherever the detour signs took them. This time they ended up on a road that seemed to be in worse disarray than the freeway could ever possibly have been. Dean worked hard to avoid the many potholes, but it was hard to tell them from the puddles in the rain.

Once again Sam had the map out trying to figure out where they were.

"Don't bother, Sammy," Dean told him, spying yet another detour sign ahead. "Wait till we're off this rollercoaster and then we'll figure out where we are."

"If we just keep following the signs the detours are bound to lead up back to the Interstate," Sam remarked, but he kept the map out anyway.

Rollercoaster had been right. Dean wasn't easily turned around, having been trained by his father to hone his sense of direction, but in the rain and the dark with nothing but orange signs to reassure them they weren't heading for Mexico, Dean finally had to admit to himself that they were lost. They were still tailing the jetta, so if they _were_ heading for Mexico, at least they weren't the only ones.

Then, to his intense relief, Dean sighted an Interstate sign next to the detour sign. "Finally!" They took the next ramp onto the welcomed Interstate, their world a glow with working streetlamps and reflective road turtles. Able at last to stretch his legs, relatively speaking, Dean directed the impala over to the far lane and settled back into the long drive with ease. "This is _much_ better," he stated with a satisfied smirk.

The moment they passed the next exit, Sam consulted the map, and looking up, hesitantly said, "Ah…you know that town we were heading for?"

"Yeah," Dean drawled out, just knowing he wasn't going to like this.

"It's back that way," his brother stated, pointing behind him. The detours had managed to take them all the way around, completely bypassing the town.

Dean swore.


	5. Back Order

**Back Order**

Having spent the better part of the day researching with minor success, the two brothers had moved from the confines of the hotel to the only somewhat more spacious room of the local diner/café/coffee shop with free WiFi.

Dean was almost finished with his burger and fries while Sam had barely made a dent in his. The change of scenery must have helped because suddenly he was finding site after site of information on their current hunt. Too caught up to eat, Sam only barely noticed as Dean began to pilfer his fries. But he did notice the small little icon that suddenly appeared in the bottom right corner of his screen. And like any good addict, Sam opened his email to check out the new message.

Quickly reading it, Sam wanted to groan, and then vocally complained to his brother, "Dean, you cannot keep using my email for ordering your archaic music collection!"

His brother practically lit up with excitement. "A new tape came in? Which one?"

"Which _one?"_ Sam repeated incredulous. But when Dean only looked at him expectantly, Sam sighed, telling him, "Secret Treaties."

"Sweet! I thought it'd never show up! Come on, we need to get to Omaha, Nebraska as soon as we can." Dean was half out of his seat in his enthusiasm, but Sam slumped back in his chair, openly staring at his brother in shock.

"Ah, Dean. We're on a hunt?"

"It's been on back order for _two_ _months!"_

"Are you seriously telling me this tape is more important that saving people's lives?"

Dean's face scrunched up and for a second Sam thought Dean might actually say yes. His brother literally looked like he was at war with himself, and after a long struggle finally whined, "No." And then with a complete change of tempo stated, " Fine, lets hunt this baddie. Point me in the right direction Sammy and consider it gone!"

"Ah, okay," Sam started, turning back to the stuff he'd found thus far on their _baddie_, a creature known as an Aquane. "Well, Aquanes prefer to kill kids. Taking them for two days before killing them and leaving them in a public area to be found."

"With their bodies covered in slime and half eaten, I know all that," Dean interrupted impatient, "But where do we _find_ the sicko?"

"Well, according to the legends they live in cold damp caves."

"Oh, that is so not helpful."

"They also have to wet their skin every hour or they dry out," Sam added, thinking it explained why Aquanes were usually found near lakes. But the closest lake was a good two hours away.

Dean suddenly snapped his fingers, grinning. "I've got it. I know where he is." But he didn't immediately share as Dean impatiently got up and digging some bills out, said, "Come on. If we kill it now we can be on the road by nightfall."

Sam didn't think he'd ever seen his brother this eager to end a hunt before. Checking out of the motel, Dean drove them to an abandoned aquarium on the edge of town where, just as Dean predicted, they had little trouble dispatching the Aquane.

Pulling a towel and fresh clothes out of his bag, Sam would have preferred a shower, but Dean insisted on leaving right away.

"Why are you in such a rush? Your package is still going to be there tomorrow."

"We don't know that. Damn thing wouldn't let me send it to a PO Box so I just picked some address at random."

Sam's eyebrows reached his hairline before he burst out laughing.

"Come on, come on. But don't get any slime on the car!"

Still laughing, Sam finished toweling his hair as best he could before throwing everything in the back seat of the impala. Dean wasn't much cleaner, but as soon as the doors were closed he revved the car and they left town as if a demon were on their tail.

Sometimes Sam just couldn't believe his brother. "Dean. Why don't you just get a CD player? You're going to have to move into the twentieth century at some point."

"And destroy the classic nature of my baby? Never!"

Shaking his head in hopeless defeat, Sam remarked with a grin, "I guess I should be glad we're not chasing after eight tracks."

"Damn straight. Cassettes are way better than those relics anyway."

"Cassettes are relics, too, Dean!" but his brother wouldn't have any of it. So the rest of the way was spent drowned out by the sounds of Dean's favorite bands.

They arrived in Omaha shortly after the mailman did. Apparently so did the resident teenager of the random address Dean had picked as his shipping address. "Oh no he doesn't!" Dean growled out, jumping out of the car just as the kid was pulling the mail from the box, including a small brown package.

Sam briefly covered his face with his hand and then sank as low as his tall lanky form would let him. Outside the impala he watched his older brother confront the teenage boy.

"I believe you have something that's mine," Dean began with a not so diplomatic smile.

"I don't think so," the kid automatically disputed, even half turning back to his house before Dean jumped in front of him.

"A package. _That_ package. I sent it to the wrong address by mistake. I'd like it back now."

The kid looked at the label on the brown box and then looked up at Dean with furrowed brows. "Bruce Lee?" He asked in complete disbelief.

"While that's obviously not _you_," Dean retorted.

"And that's supposed to be you? Yeah, right!"

"Look, just give me the package."

"No," the teenager replied, holding the mail even closer to his chest.

"Gimme the package!' Dean exclaimed reaching out to take it. The kid turned away but Dean had used up his last bit of patience with the teenager and the two quickly ended up in a struggle over the little brown box. The rest of the mail fell to the grass, a moment later joined by the kid as Dean managed to pull it out of his hands and raced back to the impala triumphant.

He whooped with success as he started the car and then cockily waved at the kid as they pulled away. Sam sunk even lower in his seat, grumbling, "I am actually _ashamed_ to be your brother right now."

"Whatever, dude. I got it, didn't I?"

Driving with one hand Dean eagerly ripped into the box and pulled out the prized cassette tape. But as he looked at the fought over item his face fell, and in horror, he exclaimed, "Bastards! They sent me the wrong one!"


End file.
